Nursery Rhymes
by ScaryScarecrows
Summary: Hush, little baby, don't you cry...Scarecrow's gonna sing you a lullaby.
1. Five Little Pigs

AN: In some incarnations, Crane speaks almost solely in nursery rhymes. Mine is too proud of his intellect for that, but he's not above sprinkling them here and there. They are creepy, after all. Especially in the right situation…

WARNINGS: blood, torture, scary images (it's the Scarecrow, people), and so on. I MEAN IT. If you're squeamish, back away now and don't come crying to me later. You were warned.

* * *

The man tied to the chair has a fear of having his fingernails removed. There is no logical explanation for it. There isn't a reason for it-they'll grow back eventually. There isn't even a _name_ for that particular fear. (Perhaps he'll come up with one…)

So what is a man to do but help the patient overcome his fear?

Scarecrow clamps the tips of the pliers around the man's thumbnail, gives them an experimental tug to make sure they won't slide off, and pats the poor soul on the head.

 ** _"This little piggy went to market…"_**

 **YANK!**

There's a new wail of pain and fear, loud enough to bounce off the walls. Scarecrow lets the bloody chunk fall to the floor-they have henchman for that-and moves the now-rather-slippery pliers to the next nail.

 ** _"This little piggy stayed home…"_**

"GOD NOOOOOO!"

 ** _"This little piggy had roast beef…"_**

"ARGHH!"

 ** _"And this little piggy had none."_**

Well, you know what they say. It ain't over until the fat lady sings.

 ** _"And THIS little piggy cried…"_**

A shrill shriek, like a little girl's, reaches his ears and makes him temporarily deaf.

 ** _"All the way home!"_**

He drops the last little nail in a pile with the others, leaves the pliers on the table for Jonathan to clean up, and goes upstairs to see about dinner. Being a therapist is hard work, after all.

THE END


	2. Three Wise Men of Gotham

AN: Actual rhyme. I couldn't pass it up, I mean...look at it.

Christineoftheopera- ** _Growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional._**

* * *

Well, look what they had here! Three of Gotham's elected officials, all trussed up like turkeys.

Today was a new experiment, one that he had never gotten to try due to space requirements and other difficulties. But now…now the stars had aligned!

He made sure the concrete blocks were tied securely to their feet, tossed a capsule into the tank, and waited for a few minutes for it to take effect. Soon enough, the screaming started and the men began knocking their heads against the sides of the tank.

It was time to turn on the faucet.

 ** _"Three wise men of Gotham went to sea in a bowl."_**

Unfortunately, there had no bowl handy. Alas.

 ** _"If the bowl had been stronger, my song would have been longer."_**

He settled down in a chair in front of the tank. The screams had grown louder-especially now that the water had risen over the concrete. Then…

"OH MY GOD NO!"

What did they think it was? A snake? The Blob That Ate Everyone? Oh, this should be fun.

The water rose. At least one of them attempted to smack the water and was mentally unable to remove his hand from it.

When Batman kicked down the door an hour or so later, he found a laughing Scarecrow and three very frightened-looking, very _dead_ officials.

Scarecrow got a concussion.

Worth it.

THE END


	3. Three Blind Mice

AN: Mildly inspired by a lyric in Alice in Chains' song 'Confusion'-"without eyes you cannot cry". Well. That's not creepy or anything, guys. ('Head Creeps' takes the creepy cake, though. I kinda wish they'd gotten with Tim Burton and made a video for it.)

* * *

Three teenage girls-pulled, kicking and screaming, off the street as they walked home from school-sit in the chairs in the basement. There are rough gags in their mouths that have seen more than a little use and at least one bitten tongue, and their arms and legs are duct taped to the chairs.

They are not blindfolded. Normally they would be, to add to the terror, but he needs access to their eyes today.

He searches through his tools until he finds what he needs-a sturdy metal spoon, nice and shiny. He picks it up and makes his way over to the first girl-a blonde. Jonathan thinks she looks like Sherry Squires. Scarecrow has to agree-it doesn't help that they found a cheerleader uniform in her backpack.

He pulls her head back, secures it in place with more duct tape, and forces her left eye open. With one deft scoop, he digs the spoon in just behind her eye and starts wiggling it.

 **Pop!**

There's a chorus of screams as the dislodged eyeball bounces across the floor, disappearing into the corner. He'll find it later.

 ** _"Just one more now…"_**

She fights him on this one, tries to keep her eyelid shut and attempts to pull her head away. By the time he's through, she's bruised-not that you can see it through the blood.

He grips her wrist hard enough to bring a vein to the surface and slides the needle into it. She's not fighting now-probably about to pass out. This should fix that.

Now, for the other two.

By the time he's done, all three are twitching in their seats, wheezing and whimpering and oozing. He cuts the tape and whispers, **_"Find the door and you can go."_**

For a moment, they don't move at all, but then the blonde sort of…falls…out of her chair and starts moving, her hands cupping her face where her eyes had been. The others, hearing their friend get up the nerve, follow suit.

He remains in the corner, watching them stumble around and sometimes run into each other, which always elicits shrieks of pain and terror. That new batch should start to take effect in three…two…one…

"Don't touch me!" That was one of the brunettes. She's off against the far wall, well away from both him and her companions. One hand lifts and bats wildly at the air, nearly unbalancing her. "Don't touch me, don't TOUCH ME!"

 ** _"Three blind mice…"_**

That gets them all to panic and start moving, tripping over everything in their attempt to find the door.

 ** _"Three blind mice…"_**

One of them knocks a jar off the table-he'd left it there, knowing somebody would get to it. There's nothing in it, just murky water for atmosphere.

 ** _"See how they run…"_**

Two more run into each other and starting hitting, bloody fists digging into empty eye sockets.

 ** _"See how they run…"_**

He picks up a scalpel, makes his way to the one that broke the jar, and bends down, catching her ponytail and pulling her to her knees.

 ** _"They all ran after the farmer's wife, who cut off their tails with a carving knife…"_**

It'll do. It's sharp, isn't it?

He moves the scalpel across her throat, turning her screams into gurgles that only serve in pushing more blood out.

 ** _"Did you ever see such a sight in your life…"_**

The other two are going still-the blonde's not moving anymore and her neck's crooked. The brunette is slumped on top of her, wheezing. He drops the girl he's holding and grabs the ankle of the survivor. She lives to fight another day.

 ** _"As three…blind…mice?"_**

THE END


	4. Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep

AN: Dr. Crane is _very_ well-acquainted with this one. He doesn't particularly like it, but what do you do? It isn't technically a nursery rhyme, but there's rather a shortage of rhymes that worked with this idea, and I simply couldn't pass it up.

Warning for troubling things happening to a child. It's Gotham, people. No one is safe in this city.

Christineoftheopera- _Escaped? Not often. Rescued by Bats, on the other hand...frequently._

* * *

"I made a new friend today, Daddy."

Officer Joe Harbottle looked up from his paper.

"Oh?"

"Uh-huh." Alice perched on his armchair, swinging her legs back and forth. "He has yellow eyes."

Oh. One of _those_ friends, then.

"What's his name, sweetie?"

"Crow."

His eyes flicked to his paper, and the headline, **SCARECROW MURDERS TWENTY, CAPTURED BY BATMAN.**

He quietly folded it up and put it out of sight.

"Is Crow nice?"

"Uh-huh. He talks funny, though. Like the Butter Lady."*

Joe laughed and picked her up.

"Come on. You should be getting ready for bed."

"I don't wanna go to bed!"

"I didn't either, when I was your age." He hugged her. "Maybe Mom will let you stay up an extra fifteen minutes if you brush your teeth now."

* * *

As the weeks went on, 'Crow' became a frequent topic of conversation. Ann worried.

"Isn't she a bit old for imaginary friends?"

"She's at a new school halfway through the year, she's probably lonely."

"Surely that would have waned."

"Guess not."

"I don't like this friend." she whispered. "Alice drew a picture of him the other day and this is what he looks like."

She fished a creased piece of paper out of her nightstand drawer and handed it to him. Joe flinched.

Alice had drawn a stick figure, but the head...he'd seen that face once before, two months ago. Yellow eyes and haphazard stitches adorned the face and for a second he heard Crane's cold, hissing voice whispering, _"Tell me, Joe, how are your wife and daughter?"_

Ann shuddered.

"Where did she see that?"

"I don't know, I don't know...Crow has to go."

"Yeah. I hate telling her she can't be creative, but..."

"Not like this. Not in this city." He folded the drawing and stuffed it out of sight. Ann put her hand on his arm.

"You don't think it's _him_ , do you?"

"No. No, he's in Arkham, she's just seen the news or something." He kissed her. "Just coincidence, that's all."

* * *

Alice was adamant about two things. One, that Crow was real. Two, that Crow was staying.

"You'll hurt his feelings." she said stubbornly. "He doesn't have any other friends. He said so."

"He'll have to make new ones."

"No!" She stamped her foot and for a moment Joe wondered if she was going to throw a full-blown tantrum. "I don't have any other friends!"

"Hon, I can sign you up for Girl Scouts or Yoga or whatever. But Crow has to go."

"You can't make me."

"I can ground you."

"Joe..."

"Fine! I'll be lonely then! I hate you!"

She stomped off and a minute later the door to her room slammed. Joe sighed and massaged his temples.

"Joe..."

"I know, I know. It's just...any other friend but that one."

* * *

Alice lay in bed, listening to Daddy get coffee ready and lock the front door. When she heard her parents' door close she sat up and turned on her flashlight.

"It's safe."

From under the bed came the sound of movement and a spidery body came out. Crow stretched, his spine cracking, and then he turned to her.

"Your room looks just like you." He picked up a plush unicorn and made it walk along the bed. She giggled.

"Let's play Clue Jr.**!"

Crow held a finger to his mouth.

"Don't wake them yet."

"Okay."

She set it up and watched Crow maneuver his long limbs into a comfortable position. They played in near-silence, but she couldn't repress a small victory dance when she beat him. Unfortunately, her parents' door opened just then and she heard her mother's voice calling, "Alice?"

Crow was up and hiding in the shadows by her dresser in a flash, and a second later her mother opened the door.

"Alice, what are you doing up? You should be sleeping."

Crow stretched on leg out and slid himself across the room to stand behind the door.

"What are you doing?"

"Crow's here."

Her mother sighed and rubbed her nose like she did when Daddy made a dumb joke.

"Honey...come on, back to bed."

"He is! He's right there."

Crow closed the door.

"Alice?"

"Shh. We were just playing a little board game."

His smooth, lazy drawl was gone and his new voice-hard and emotionless-sent shivers down her spine. Her mother whirled and put herself between them.

"Scream and I'll shoot you both." Crow whispered. "Keep quiet and she might survive. I've grown...fond of her."

"You bastard."

"Technically, I suppose. Sit. And remember..." He held a finger to his mouth.

"Mom?"

"Quiet."

"No, no, she can ask questions." He came the rest of the way into the room and knelt in front of them, head cocked to the side. "My name isn't Crow, really."

"Leave her alone."

He ignored her entirely, the yellow eyes boring into Alice's.

"My name is Jonathan. That's the only thing that isn't true, though. I promise."

He did not sound like he meant it and she ducked her head.

Crow-Jonathan-sighed and stood up.

"I am very sorry for all of this." he said, still not sounding sincere. "But some people need to be taught a lesson in manners, and you're going to help me do that."

"What do you want?"

He looked at them, hands clasped in front of him.

"You'll see."

He spread his arms wide and a white fog filled the room.

* * *

Ann had been out of the room for nearly half an hour when he heard the screaming start. He grabbed his gun and sprinted down the hall

 _Too long too long come on dammit MOVE!_

He kicked the door open and began to cough. Then he focused his eyes and screamed.

His wife lay dead on the floor, fingers still embedded in her throat, gold cross glimmering in the blood. His daughter lay in bed, tucked in and screaming her head off. He rushed to her and ripped the blankets off.

"Alice! Alice, Alice, baby, it's okay, it's okay..."

A thin slip of paper fluttered to the floor and he snatched it without thinking.

 _Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord my soul to keep._

 _And if I die before I wake...I pray the lord my soul to take._

 _My condolences, Joe._

 _-Doctor Crane_

THE END


	5. Georgie Porgie

AN: _Cramps ruin everything. Oh, well, he got his. Even if I didn't get to cut his balls off and shove them down his throat._

Trigger warning for mentions of rape and Scarecrow being...his normal self. George is modeled after my own neighbor. Creep.

Christineoftheopera- _Granny was fond of it. **Was.**_

* * *

Scarecrow looked at his latest toy. George Watson, thirty-six, out on parole despite the rape of six women. He hadn't known that when he grabbed him off the street, but he liked knowing about his victims if at all possible.

Kitty had not been happy to find out what was tied up in the basement.

"Promise you'll make him scream?"

He looked at her, cursing Jonny's need for glasses. He refused to wear them on principle, but it had the drawback of blurring everything.

"You could have him."

"I need to go lie down." She swayed and leaned against him. "Film it for me?"

"Anything to oblige."

She went upstairs and Scarecrow turned back to George.

"You heard the lady." He leaned on the table. "I do hate to disappoint her. And, really...that's just sad. What, would not even a hooker take you on?"

George blinked, confused, and stopped making noises behind the gag.

"I mean, yeah, you're an ugly bastard, but come on. Money talks, right?" He grinned and cocked his head to the side. _**"Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie, kissed the girls and made them cry..."**_ He came around the table and tugged a few strands of hair out of the gag. George whimpered and tried to pull away. _ **"And when the boys came out to play, Georgie Porgie ran away!"**_

He patted the man's cheek and began laying out his tools. Scalpel, needles, a spoon and a plastic bag.

"I'm going to take the gag out now and we're going to talk. It'll be like a sleepover, only with less naked pillow-fighting."

 _You do know that doesn't happen._

 _ **How would you know?**_

 _...I walked right into that one._

"Let's play truth or dare." he continued, digging his nails into the knot behind George's head. "That sounds fun, don't you think?"

He yanked the dirty, wet cloth from the man's mouth and dropped it on the floor. George promptly started spitting insults at him.

"You sick **fuck** , let me go right now!"

Scarecrow cocked his head.

"Why? Will your parole officer come looking for you?"

"I don't have a-"

 _ **"Don't tell lies."**_ George fell silent. "Now. Truth or dare?"

"What?"

"Truth, then. Tell me, Georgie boy, what are you scared of?"

"I-"

Scarecrow heaved a big, theatrical sigh and came around to put his hands on George's shoulders.

"You just _have_ to make this **difficult** , don't you? Stalling won't work-no one knows you're gone yet. Either you can tell me, or I'll find out myself."

He was starting to cry, the bravado gone. Damn. He hated criers. Half the time they choked on their own snot and required assistance to not die.

"Really."

"Look, man, let me go, I won't tell anyone I saw you, I swear..."

"I'd like to. I would!" He squeezed the shoulders until the tendons popped. "But I made a promise to the nice lady upstairs. Remember?"

"Please..."

"Aand the crying pissed me off. Sorry."

He set up the video camera, grumbling about tiny parts and ignoring Jonathan's increasingly unsubtle hints to put the stupid glasses on.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

"Stop. _**Crying**_." he growled. The sobs stopped, but heavy tears continued coursing down his face. "Good enough...you're obviously going to make this harder on yourself." He picked up a needle, narrowly avoid stabbing himself with it. Jonathan called him an idiot. Such a baby...like they'd never experienced a taste before.

"See this?" He pressed the tip to the soft skin just under the man's left eye. "Do you know what it is?"

"Please..."

"I've never injected someone here before." he said. "Let's find out what happens!"

"No, please-!"

He grasped George's head with one hand, held it against his ribs to keep the fucker from squirming, and jammed the needle in just under the eye. George shrieked and tried to yank free.

Scarecrow let him. The needle snapped off and remained there like a bee's stinger. Fascinating.

 ** _"What frightens you, Georgie-boy?"_** He leaned over the back of the chair and gently removed the broken tip from the skin. _**"What do you see?"**_

For a moment, he received no answer whatsoever. There were only tears. He petted the man's face and whispered, **_"Shh, shh. There's no need for tears."_**

Then he began to jerk against the restraints, exhaling and shaking and screaming, "GET OFF! GET OFF!"

Well, well. These always entertained him. He made sure the camera was focused properly and brushed his fingers along George's belly.

"NO!"

"What do you see?" he murmured, fingers dancing over the delicate skin at the throat. "What do you see, George?"

"NOOO!"

George's fingers twitched and he attempted to jerk his hands free, fingers scratching at his stomach. Burrowers, then. His favourite.

"Let me help you." He fetched the scalpel, laid it in his lap, and untied a hand. Just one hand-couldn't have him ruining the fun, after all.

Sure enough, George snatched the scalpel and drove it into himself, still screaming, "NO! NO! NO!"

Scarecrow grinned behind the mask and rubbed his hands together.

"There's one here." He poked a mostly blood-free patch of skin. "Can't you see it burrowing into your _**flesh**_?"

Hunks of flesh and fat fell to the floor with wet **splats**. Eventually the screaming slowed and the desperate cutting stopped and he slumped in the chair, weakly plucking squishy bits out and whimpering, "Get them out, get them out..."

Scarecrow began to laugh.

THE END


	6. Tom, Tom, the Piper's Son

AN: All right, I admit it: I hate (American) football. It pisses me off that those assholes can get away with-literally!-murder _because_ they play football. Try anything on me, boy-os, and I'll use you as a target for my throwing knives, you see if I don't.

Crane hates them because high school (King of the grudge-holders, this one) and because he sees them as Neanderthals who get 'your' and 'you're' mixed up. You want in his good graces? Know the difference.

Scarecrow yawned and wished he had popcorn. He hated waiting. He couldn't help it.

"I'm bored."

"This was your idea."

"I hate waiting."

"You're bitching at the wrong person."*

He scoffed and twirled a bit of straw in his fingers. The one issue with doing big things like this was the _waiting_. Good _god_ , the waiting!

 _It's not so terrible._

 _ **Shut up, yes it is.**_

 _This was your idea._

 _ **Can't you do the waiting?**_

 _No._

Sometimes he wondered why they all thought Jonathan was the nice half. This. Was. _Torture_.

The straw snapped and stabbed him in the finger and he swore, flung it off to the side for being a little bitch. Jonathan laughed at him.

 _Not your proudest moment._

 _ **Bite me.**_

"Look."

He looked and felt his face break into a grin.

They were placing the ball. The special, gas-filled ball that would set the stadium shrieking when they kicked it.

It was showtime.

He stretched and made his way to the announcer's box. It said something about this city that nobody paid him attention, mask or not.

 _It's the 'it will never happen to me' effect._

 _ **Big deal.**_

He opened the door and stepped inside.

"Tom Williams has the ball-JESUS CHRIST-"

The announcer went down shrieking, the microphone broadcasting his wails until Kitty shot him in the face. Scarecrow took the microphone.

 _ **"Tom, Tom, the piper's son, stole a pig and away did run!"**_

The ball was already starting to smoke a bit and Tom dropped it, tried to run away. But it was too late, much too late.

 _ **"The pig was eat."**_

The other players were affected now, running and flailing in some sort of strange dance.

 _ **"And Tom was beat."**_

The audience rose up as one and tried to flee. Joke was on them, he had men stationed at the doors! Couldn't have them ruining his fun.

 _ **"And Tom went howling down the street!"**_

He began to laugh, long and hard.

 _ **"How are you, Gotham?"**_

They screamed. On the big screen, one player tackled another and began tearing at his arm. Beautiful.

 _ **"Everyone happy and healthy?"**_

More screams. He flung himself into the chair and spun it around a bit, narrowly avoiding tangling himself in the cords. Kitty snickered and he flung a stray peanut at her.

 _Very mature._

 _ **"Today's your lucky day!"**_ he announced. **_"You get to help me try out this new formula? How is it so far?"_**

On the screen, the player on the bottom got his fingers around his attacker's lower lip and yanked it. It split and began to pull away from the teeth and jaw.

 _I'm going to be sick._

 _ **Don't look.**_

 _A little difficult!_

 _ **Baby.**_

CRA-ASH!

Black boots hit him in the chest and knocked the chair backwards. He flung the microphone at Batman and raised his right hand.

Sadly, Bats was not to share in the excitement-he grasped Scarecrow's wrist and squeezed, causing the delicate mechanism to be crushed.

 _That took forever to perfect!_

 _ **Could've been our wrist.**_

 _Rather the wrist than that!_

 _ **Priorities, Jonny...**_

 **"SCARECROW."**

He tried a grin, but Bats couldn't see it anyway.

"For science?"

WHAM!

THE END

*Kitty is a member of the _Sherlock_ fandom. Our patience is legendary.


	7. Hickory Dickory Dock

AN: Scarecrow has used this one before, in the comics.

Christineoftheopera- _And Doctor Who...mmm, David Tennant. My love._ _What. Shh, shh. Nothing will ever come of it, it's fine. Who is this? THE TENTH DOCTOR, NOW SHUSH. Oh. That one. You do realize he's fictional. DON'T CRUSH MY HOPES AND DREAMS, THEY'RE ALL I HAVE TO TIDE ME UNTIL SHERLOCK. I'm tempted to go find these people and tell them to hurry up, this is getting ridiculous. _

* * *

Long before Gotham became famous for its boogeymen, it was famous for its gargoyles.

Most of the older buildings-and some of the new ones going for that 'classic' feel-had a handful of the things on the roof. Arkham had more than most, for reasons nobody could understand, but the second-place winner would have to be the decrepit clock tower.

The clock tower was dangerous-several of the gargoyles had come plummeting down in the last few years, and the staircase was crumbling. It was supposedly condemned, but so far the only sign of _that_ was the yellow keep-out sign outside.

And, as David Holmes had found out, _plenty_ of people did not care for keep-out signs.

He'd come in here on a dare-his friends were all outside, doing that stupid chicken dance from _Arrested Development*_ -and after giving them the middle finger, he'd refused to turn around again.

Well, until the doors swung shut, leaving him in the dark.

"Guys?" Fuckers... "Guys, you suck, open the doors."

There was a scurrying sound and he shuddered. This place was probably crawling with spiders...or worse.

"Hey! Come on!"

Something pointy brushed his face and he flailed expecting to hit a moth or something. He hit nothing at all.

"Is someone here-ow!" He slapped at his neck. "Fuckin' bugs...come on, guys, open up."

He headed in the direction he thought the doors were, arms held out in front of him.

He was pretty sure they were right there. They had been right there, hadn't they? Just a few more steps?

His fingers brushed nothing, but he stepped on a shoelace and went sprawling.

When he lifted his head, his eyes lit on two yellow dots in the gloom. Flashlights? Maybe he'd hit his head.

"Hello?"

The dots came a little closer and he blinked and struggled to his feet.

"Is someone there?"

There was no answer, but the dots kept coming until he could see what they were.

Eyes.

"Oh, god..."

The burlap head tilted to the left and a needle-adorned hand came up in a little wave.

David turned and fled, stumbling in the blackness until he ran into the stair railing. He stepped around it and started up, the old wooden steps groaning with his weight.

 ** _"Hickory, dickory, dock..."_**

His vision, already shit in the dark, was starting to waver. He swallowed and forced his legs to move faster, skipping steps in order to from the monster below.

 _ **"The mouse ran up the clock."**_

His breath was coming in short, panicked huffs and his muscles burned. He reached a curve in the stairs and glanced down.

That was a mistake. Too high, too high!

He stumbled and gripped the railing.

 _Look away!_

He forced his head to turn, but he was dizzy. If he let go of the railing, he'd fall.

 _Gonna fall gonna fall Jesus Christ no no please no_

Scratchy hands grabbed his shoulders and he screamed, flailing wildly and pressing against the old railing.

 _ **"The clock struck one..."**_

He finally jerked away from the hands-

-and felt the railing splinter behind him.

 _ **"The mouse ran down..."**_

Ground rushing up to meet him no air oh god no god please no-!

 _ **"Hickory..."**_

Yellow eyes grew smaller above him.

 _ **"Dickory..."**_

That unearthly scream...him?

 _ **"Dock."**_

His back hits the floor and cracks like a cockroach's shell.

Then there's nothing.

THE END

*YouTube 'Gob chicken dance' for the best one. Eating while viewing is not advised, you might choke and die and I will not be responsible.


	8. Goosey Goosey Gander

AN: Madame Alexander has made Batman and Catwoman dolls. Really hoping they'll make more-Riddler would be ADORABLE. I would be all over that, you don't even know.

Christineoftheopera- _Oh, Ten...that hair...and the way he starts talking at the speed of light when he's excited about something...*swoons*_

Katherine- _Trussed up outside. Don't give me that look, the man's an animal._ _**PUN.** Crap._ _**He ruined my fun.**_ _Poor soul. **Shut up.**_

* * *

Scarecrow stretched one long leg over the windowsill, paused, and clambered the rest of the way in like some sort of humanoid spider.

Ugh. He did not like rain. Or, more accurately, he did not like to be out in it. It made seeing anything nearly impossible even with Jonny's glasses and it hid such horrid things as Batman.

On top of everything else, there had been a small mishap-the clown, as usual-and the door was now inaccessible. (A small explosion, Jonny had been furious.) As a result, the only way in was a window on the third floor.

And much to his annoyance, it had been open when he arrived here tonight. Either one of his idiot henchmen had left it open or somebody else had gotten in.

Hopefully not the Batman. If Bats was in here he was very, very fucked. And not in the fun way, either.

He stood still, dripping water onto the floor, and listened.

There! There was a creak upstairs. Not Bats, then. Bats didn't creak.

He grinned to himself, rubbed his hands together, and crept towards the stairs. Whoever dared to come in here was in for a very nasty surprise.

He reached the base of the stairs and stood still, peering into the blackness, the yellow glow from the mask's eyes barely reaching the second step.

There was another creak. Good. Time to go up, then.

He started up, sticking to the left-the right side made more noise than a construction site-and then thought, If they were stupid enough to break in, they can suffer the consequences.

He moved to the left and went up, checking for any signs of how many idiots had broken in.

Then he heard voices.

"I heard something downstairs."

"Babe, this place is a dump, it was probably a rat."

Two, then, at least. He took three more steps and listened to the first speaker panic.

"Babe, there's someone here."

"C'mon, it's nothing..."

"I heard something-get off!"

 _If they're doing what I think they're doing, that room is getting bleached_.

 ** _Yeah._**

"It's nothing, babe, come on, relax."

"Go look, then."

He took one large step, avoiding the last two stairs, and pressed against the wall. A door cracked open and a boy's head popped out.

"It's nothing." The head retreated and the door closed. "Relax, babe, just a rat or somethin'."

"Okay."

Scarecrow smiled. It was time to announce his presence.

 ** _"Goosey goosey gander, wither shall I wander?"_**

"I told you, someone's fucking here!"

"I didn't see anyone, I swear!"

 ** _"Upstairs and downstairs..."_** He walked to the door and gripped the knob just as it tried to turn. **_"And in my lady's chamber."_**

"Shit!"

There was the sound of panicked movement, and somebody tried the window.

He flung the door open just as a flash of lightning lit up the room, making his shadow stretch up to the ceiling.

 ** _"There I met an old man who would not say his prayers..."_**

The teenagers, half-dressed and cowering in fear, darted to the other end of the room. He tossed his last capsule to the floor and watched the smoke spread and rise. They were smart enough to cover their faces, but that wouldn't save them. It would only prolong the inevitable.

Soon enough they were on the floor, screaming and thrashing. He strode in and grabbed the girl's leg first, began to drag her out.

 ** _"So I took him by the left let and threw him down the stairs!"_**

What a nice night this was turning out to be. Two little subjects, just for him.

THE END


	9. It's Raining, It's Pouring

AN: In case it wasn't obvious, Scarecrow is CRAZY. I mean, Crane's not exactly a model of sanity, but Scarecrow...Scarecrow is something else. This has no point apart from creeping poor Eddie out for shits and giggles. Sorry, Eddie.

Christineoftheopera- _Maybe they'll kill him this time and I'll be free. MURDER WILL HAPPEN. Kitty... Remember how upset you were when Joker and Batman destroyed a library by accident? ...We don't speak of that. Exactly._

* * *

Gotham's taxi drivers refer to Arkham Asylum as 'that creepy-as-fuck place' and charge double for going there. One cannot begrudge them-all too often at least one homicidal maniac breaks out, and when one's out there's usually more.

And oh, so many drivers have been lost to an escaping inmate. It's not that they pick them up, it's that...well...Joker doesn't usually ask for a ride. He just gets one.

Really, their description of Arkham is probably the most accurate, if not the most PC. Especially on nights like tonight, when all is quiet in the halls and rain slashes at the window panes, sliding down the glass like long, thin fingers.

Scarecrow lies awake in the cell, knowing it's only a matter of time before they find out the medication isn't working and force something else in to shut him up. Humph! As if he's the bad influence here. He was helping. He always helps. Jonny would be dead without him, be buried out there where that bitch is now and they would never be the wiser.

And later, it was...it was a confidence boost for the kid, really. Something he was good at. And if Scarecrow happened to enjoy it, well, that was no crime.

So, really, he's the _good_ influence.

 _The murders turned them against you._ Jonny says sleepily. _Kitty's professor might have been overkill._

 _ **They don't know about that one!**_

Jonny is suspiciously silent after that and he scowls. Across the hall, Edward twitches in his sleep. Good. It's Edward's fault they're here now-if he could have resisted leaving a riddle, just _once_ , they'd be fine. But noo, he has a 'compulsion' and 'can't help it'.

Humph. Scarecrow suspects he's just an asshole.

Edward whimpers something and Scarecrow smirks, rolls over, and stares at him. Eventually he rolls over, half-awake. Awake enough to hear him, anyway.

 _ **"It's raining..."**_

"Hrm?"

 _ **"It's pouring..."**_

"Dad?"

 _ **"The old man is snoring..."**_

"Huh?"

 _ **"He went to bed..."**_

 _"Jon?"_

 _ **"And bumped his head..."**_

"Jon, you're being creepy, stoppit."

 _ **"And couldn't get up in the morning."**_

Edward went very quiet after that and Scarecrow grinned.

 _ **"Sweet dreams, Eddie. We'll talk tomorrow."**_

"Scarecrow..."

 _ **"Nighty-night."**_

He wouldn't actually do anything, of course-no need to call attention to himself-but Edward would spend tomorrow in a state of panic-and _silence_.

Beautiful.

THE END


	10. Eeper Weeper

AN: This one's a wee bit more obscure than some, but it's marvelously creepy and Scarecrow was just like, _**'it's happening'**_ and I was just like, 'yes, sir'.

* * *

Scarecrow likes the old, locked-up section of Arkham. It used to be the living quarters of the asylum's founder, and it was there that the man's wife and daughter were found raped and dismembered. The little girl's head-according to legend, anyway-had been stuffed in the dollhouse. After the incident, the rooms had been locked up and never spoken about. Jonny-boy had gone in there once, when he was still the director, and had not been back. It scared him, but he would never admit it.

Wuss.

Scarecrow enjoys it. It's dark, no one ever comes in here, and it rather reminds him of dear Granny's house in Georgia. Not that he misses _her_ , but the house was nice. Very atmospheric. Good for experimenting, if Jonny would ever let him go back in.

This place will do. It's easy to pick the lock, even with a semi-conscious nurse in tow. She'll be waking up soon, yes she will, and then the fun will begin.

Jonny hates this nurse. Scarecrow doesn't like her, either-bitch forces pills in that silence him and make everything foggy. It took weeks to convince the doctor that the dose was too high, and he's still not quite right. He can't think straight, and in an ideal world Jonny wouldn't be taking the stupid things at all.

No matter. He'll be out soon enough-another two weeks, Kitty's getting over a case of pneumonia-and after tonight this little bitch won't be a problem.

He props her against the dollhouse and settles down across from her to wait for her to wake the rest of the way.

She does, eventually, shaking her head and blinking and making confused noises. He amuses himself by drawing little stick figures in the dust.

"Wh-where...?"

 _ **"Good morning."**_

Well, evening, but who cares, really?

"Ah-! Who's there?"

How dare she not know who he is?

 _ **"Guess."**_

"This isn't funny...come on, where am I?"

 _ **"I'm not joking."**_

She tries to sit up, stirs up a cloud of dust and breaks into a sneezing fit. He stands up and goes to kneel beside her.

Eventually she stops sneezing and puts her hands out, groping for some hint of her surroundings. She touches the dollhouse first, and then, leaving one hand on it, reaches over it. Her fingers brush the mask and she yanks them back with a cry.

"Crane?"

 _ **"Not quite."**_

"Oh, god..."

 _ **"I'll answer to that."**_

"Jonathan, if you can hear me..."

 _She_ does _realize that I don't like her, doesn't she_?

 _ **Doesn't seem to.**_

"Please..."

Scarecrow stands up and looms over her, head cocked to the side. She cowers back, whimpering, and he reaches for her. She tucks her hands into her coat and shakes her head.

"Please...Jonathan..."

 _ **"Jonny-boy isn't here right now."**_ Scarecrow snarls. _**"Now get up."**_

He grabs one chubby elbow and yanks her to her feet. There's a very specific place they need to be, where she'll _never_ be found.

"Let go of me! Let go! Help!"

Shouting for help? In Gotham? In _Arkham_? How sad.

He tugs her through the remains of the nursery and into a bedroom, trying to ignore the thrashing and pulling. If she pulls his arm out, he'll be _very_ upset.

This little nurse is horribly claustrophobic. He found out quite by accident last month, when one of the orderlies locked her in a broom closet as a joke. When they let her out, she needed two days at home to recover.

This will be much, much worse.

He forces her against a wall and squeezes her arm until a vein appears. Excellent. Keeping one arm pressed across her throat to hold her still, he slides a needle into her skin.

He gives it a minute to work before wrapping his arms around her and hauling her towards the fireplace. She kicks him in the knee and nearly knocks him over, but eventually he manages to reach his destination.

 _ **"Eeper weeper, chimney sweeper, had a wife and couldn't keep her."**_

She knows, now, what he intends to do with her and it turns out that she's a fighter-she gets one leg around his and brings them both crashing to the ground. How very irritating.

He's up before she is-Batman at his weakest hurts more than that-and this time he grabs her ankles and starts cramming her into the fireplace.

 _ **"Had another, didn't love her..."**_

She yanks at his hands but he's already got her halfway up and she's beginning to panic.

 _ **"Up the chimney he did shove her."**_

She opens her mouth to scream and inhales old dust and ash. The only sounds she can make now are coughs and gags and the occasional feeble struggles to get down.

Those eventually stop.

THE END


	11. Where, Oh Where Has My Little Dog Gone?

AN: I have used this one before-well, Kitty's version of it. Batman doesn't like Kitty's version. Kitty thinks Batman has no appreciation for poetry and should shut his whore mouth. (It goes this way: 'where, oh where has my little Bat gone? where, oh where can he be? with his ears lopped off and his throat ripped out...oh where, oh where can he be?')

Christineoftheopera- _Pediophobia. Fairly common. Go into the local thrift store on any given day and you'll see at least one person with it._

Katherine- _There is a reason Batman has broken Edward's jaw at least twice. I really should leave him a free antidote next time he does it..._

* * *

Scarecrow liked to consider himself to be very patient. Okay, so sometimes he got a little overexcited, but he could be patient.

Most of the time.

Okay, some of the time.

FINE, he was bad at being patient. Fuck it, everybody had faults.

 _YOU LET HIM OUT AND HE RAN OFF._

 _ **Shut up, I didn't know he was gonna book it!**_

 _Seriously?_

 _ **I thought I could take him!**_

 _First of all, he broke my glasses-I'm blaming you when Kitty asks what happened-_

 _ **Traitor**_ _._

 _And second of all, where the hell is he?_

Scarecrow shrugged. He couldn't be far-it was a warehouse with guards at the doors, he was in here somewhere. Besides, he had to be hallucinating by now.

 _Great, they'll shoot him._

 _ **Hang on.**_

He grabbed the microphone that Jonny hated him touching, tapped it a few times, and spoke.

 _ **"If you see a terrified man with a rope around his neck, don't shoot him!"**_

 _ **There.**_

 _I can't believe you. Go find him._

 _ **Tally-ho!**_

 _...No more bad period dramas for you._

 _ **Fuck you, I do what I want!**_

Jonny sighed and Scarecrow imagined him face-palming. Whatever. He had no sense of fun, that was all.

He strolled out of the basement, locked the door, and began his search of the ground floor. Now, where had that little brat gone off to?

He was not down there, and Scarecrow pulled one of the men aside and told him to make _sure_ nobody got in or out.

Now, onto the second floor.

Kitty met him halfway down the hall and raised an eyebrow.

 _Move._

 _ **Why?**_

 _Because I'm better at explaining things than you._

Scarecrow would have liked to protest, but...well...it was true.

Life was unfair...

"What happened?"

"Scarecrow let the subject out."

 _"What?"_

"It's fine, it's fine, just a minor inconvenience."

Kitty did not look convinced, but she sneezed and started to cough and Jonathan took her shoulders and guided her back into the bedroom.

"Just go back to sleep."

"But..."

"He's hallucinating, he could be dangerous. Lock the door and I'll tell you when he's back in the cage."

She smirked at him.

"That's ironic."

Jonathan groaned and Scarecrow cackled.

"No more cold medicine for you. Night, Kitty."

"If you get killed I'll be mad."

The door shut and Scarecrow elbowed his way to the front again. Escapee, escapee, where was their little escapee?

There was a noise in the pipes above his head and he frowned and looked up. Hang on...

 _Rock climber._

 _ **Ohh, it's clever!**_

 _Great, how do we get it down?_

Scarecrow picked up a long-handled broom and turned off the lights.

 ** _"Where, oh, where has my little dog gone?"_** he rasped, inching along down the hall. _**"Where, oh, where can he be?"**_

He could hear raspy breathing above him and the sounds of someone trying-and failing-to keep still.

 _ **"With his ears cut short and his tail cut long..."**_ A little to the left, he thought. Right...about... _**"Where, oh, where can he be?"**_

He jabbed the broom upwards, felt it hit flesh, and swung it. Sure enough, there was a nasty CRA-ASH! and a writhing form fell from the ceiling.

 _ **"Oh, there he is!"**_ He grabbed the man's wrists and began pulling him down the hall. _**"Naughty little puppy, running away like that!"**_

"NO! NO! NO!"

 _ **"Kitty! Got him!"**_

"Good for you."

He'd have to come up with a nice 'nearly died' angle for later. But for now he was happy to put this asshole back in the cage, where he belonged.

THE END


	12. Ladybird, Ladybird

AN: If one-shot collections can have sequels, this is one to _Toxin Reaction of the Year Awards_. (Title sounds amusing, I know. Title lies.)

Christineoftheopera- _Not that it saved him-Scarecrow dropped him off a roof. **It was one story.** He had a heart attack on the way down. **True.**_

Katherine- ** _And it pisses Jonny off._** _It annoys me. **Yeah, which is funny.** What is wrong with you? **Eh, you're funny when you're annoyed.**_

* * *

Lucy Bluth counted today as the worst day of her life. She had been at the bank, just trying to pay her bills like a normal person, when the doors had flung open and a tall man in a burlap mask had come in, flanked by shotgun-wielding men and a woman carrying a sickle. Her first thought had been, _god dammit, you couldn't have waited until I was done?_

Her second thought had been _SHIT SHIT I KNOW HER_.

Knew her and hadn't gotten along with her. Kitty Richardson and Lucy had shared exactly three college classes, and they had been...difficult. She honestly couldn't say why they didn't like each other, they just didn't.

Maybe she wouldn't be recognized. It had been a while.

She was not so lucky. They'd been in for less than five minutes when the woman spotted her, pointed, and said something to the Scarecrow.

Then Lucy was carted out the door by a giant of a man that smelled like tobacco and stale fish.

She'd been gagged, blindfolded and tossed into a van, and there she sat for ten minutes before more people got in and a rough voice hissed, _**"Drive, fools!"**_

Then it was half an hour of bumping around and sometimes falling against somebody's knees. Thick-knees just nudged her away, and bony-knees bruised her ribs kicking her to the floor.

Eventually, the van screeched to a halt, resulting in an irritated, "You imbecile, who taught you to drive?"*

"Sorry, boss."

"Never mind. Take this one downstairs."

She was flung over somebody's shoulder and carried into what sounded like an empty room. Warehouse? Probably.

She was eventually thrown into what was apparently a cage, if the metal poles at her back were any indication. Footsteps walked away and she tried to stand. She bumped her head and went back down.

Oww.

She tried to work her hands free, and when that didn't work she tried to rub the blindfold off. That didn't work either.

At some point a door opened and somebody came in.

"We can let her go now."

Lucy got the shock of her life when a cold voice behind her said, "That was quick."

"Well, you know...any idiot can set a fire. Is she prepared?"

What.

"Of course." There was a squeaking noise and a bony hand wrapped around her elbow. "Out."

She dug her heels in and the hands tightened and yanked her off her feet.

"UMPH!"

"Don't struggle, then. Come on."

It was difficult to stay upright even without him pulling her along and she stumbled twice before he shoved her into the van.

Where was she going? What was going on? Were they just dumping her on the side of the road somewhere?

Twenty minutes into the drive, she felt the familiar bumpy-bumpy of her own street, the one the city refused to pave. Home? Why were they taking her home...what was that smell?

The blindfold was snipped off and she had time to catch a glimpse of the van-white and grey and cheap-before the doors were opened. A foot hit her back and she stumbled and fell into the street, rolling in the asphalt and feeling her face tear open.

The Scarecrow, gripping an Oh, Shit Handle to keep his balance, leaned out of the doors. The mask seemed to grin at her when he gestured a little ways down the street.

Fire.

Her house was one fire.

 _ **"Ladybird, ladybird, fly away home! Your house is on fire and your children...will...BURN."**_

He began to laugh, horrid cawing laughter that rocked his thin frame. She struggled up and ran down the road, trying not to fall.

Behind her, the van sped away.

* * *

Jim Gordon** looked at the scene with all the indifference of a man who had worked in Gotham for too long. Lucy Bluth, thirty-eight, had called nine-one-one in a panic about her house being on fire and her children being trapped inside.

There had been a small flame-kitchen fire, probably-but the house was not engulfed. Her children, however...

Somebody-Crane or Richardson or one of their hired help-had dressed the three of them in red shirts and black pants, shot them, and painted black dots on their backs. Child number four was missing and Jim was really, really hoping she was at a friend's house.

Lucy had been sedated before seeing them, and he was not looking forward to breaking the news.

"Comish."

"Bullock."

"We found the fourth."

"Where is she?"

"Stuffed under the stove."***

Christ.

THE END

*He's not much better under pressure, but I'm not going to be the one to tell him that.

**Hey, Jim! JIIIM! Hi. :D

***What? She wouldn't fit in a baking pan, shut up.


	13. Chopper

AN: I _think_ this comes from 'Oranges and Lemons', but that one's long. I couldn't very well abandon it, though-I mean, look at it. It practically has a neon sign that says, 'Scarecrow, recite me!'

Sorry, Scarecrow. You can't win all the time.

Christineoftheopera- _Evil IS petty, it's in the job description. And just because she didn't remember doesn't mean I don't remember._

* * *

Scarecrow is not supposed to play with scythes these days. There was a...mishap...and a near-death experience. But that was Batman's fault, not his, and he does miss it so.

Unfortunately, here Bats is again, having chased him into a dark alley. He managed to duck behind a dumpster, but there's no hiding from Bats.

He forces a painful breath into his lungs and tightens his grip on the scythe. Easy, easy, deep breath...

Batman stalks by, cape flaring, and Scarecrow struggles soundlessly to his feet. He'll be back in Arkham before the night is through, but the least he can do is make sure little Bat goes home in pain.

SLICE!

Bats rolls and whirls and a second later something sharp cuts through Scarecrow's jacket. Oh, he wants to play! Well, who is Scarecrow to ruin the fun?

He cocks his head and adjusts his grip on the scythe. Batman scowls and seems to grow a few inches.

"It's over, Scarecrow."

 _ **"You need new lines."**_

Batman never gives into such pettiness as an eye-roll, but Scarecrow knows he wants to.

He gestures with the scythe and Batman steps back. Scarecrow cackles and swings it, not really trying to hit him.

 _ **"Here comes a candle to light you to bed..."**_ He swings it again and this time Batman has to dodge it or lose a hand. ** _"And here comes a chopper to CHOP OFF YOUR HEAD!"_**

He pays dearly for his moment of fun when Batman brings his arm up-and catches the blade in the gauntlet.

Uh-oh.

The scythe is yanked from his hands and he turns to make a run for it.

And finds that he's in one of the many, many alleys with only one entrance.

This is really going to hurt, isn't it.

 **FWAM!**

THE END


	14. There Was a Crooked Man

AN: Could take place early in the Arkham Asylum game, but prior knowledge of that is not required. (But go look it up. Asylum's version of Scarecrow is my profile picture. He has no shirt, which is some combination of awkward and mildly distracting. But the glove kinda negates anything, so...)

* * *

Jonathan Crane lay on his back on his cot, listening to his fellow inmates. Arkham was quiet tonight-though that was at least partially due to Edward being absent.

Thank god for small favours.

The lights flickered and died and he lifted his head. Could be Arkham's lousy budget coming into play...or time to get up.

Three...

Two...

One...

The lights came back on.

It was time.

He slithered off the bed and opened his cell with his homemade key. Downstairs he could hear a bit of commotion-namely, Bats shouting that the Joker was escaping. There was a thud, and one of the clown's typical comments, and the fuss died down.

He let Kitty out, acknowledged Harley's greeting (and wished that child knew the meaning of 'indoor voice'), and slipped her the cell key for later. Couldn't have too many crazies running around _just_ yet, Bats would notice.

They had to jump a guard and break his neck-he shouldn't have been down here, it was his own stupidity that killed him-and then they slipped into the elevator shaft in IT.

The lair was just as he'd left it and it was a relief to get out of this ill-fitting uniform and into the familiar burlap again.

"Think this'll end in disaster?"

"Doesn't it always?" He eased his hand into the glove and twitched a finger. "We'll be out by three."

"Good...let me do that, you'll jab yourself."

Hey! That was...

That was...

Fairly likely, actually.

He huffed but stood still and let her get the thing on.

"Gotta run." She leaned up and gave him a quick kiss. "See you later."

 _ **I forgot how good she looks in that straitjacket.**_

 _Shut up, Scarecrow._

 _ **What? I can look.**_

He pulled on the mask, took one last glance at the monitors-they were just moving Croc now, thank _god_ he was going back to his cell-and left the room.

Not five minutes later, all hell broke loose.

"Joker's escaped! Need backup in-"

The guard rounded the corner and came to a screeching halt at the sight of him. Scarecrow spread his arms and made a 'come at me bro' gesture with his gloved hand.

The guard went for his gun.

Scarecrow threw a capsule at him and he managed to stay upright for a minute before going down, fingers scratching like mad at his arms. Already Scarecrow could see drops of blood beginning to stain his shirtsleeves.

 _ **"There was a crooked man, and he walked a crooked mile..."**_

"GOD NO PLEASE NO!"

 _ **"He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile..."**_

The guard finally tore the sleeves, revealing raw skin underneath. Scarecrow leaned down and brushed a needle against a particularly red spot.

 _ **"He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse..."**_

Poor bastard was beginning to foam at the mouth a bit now. Good.

 _ **"And they all lived together in a little...crooked...house."**_

Downstairs, he could hear the forced, painful laughter the Joker's chemicals caused. When **he** was through, there would be no laughter.

Only screams.

THE END


	15. Doctor Fell

AN: Continuation of 'There Was a Crooked Man'. And all I have to say about _Gotham's_ fourth episode is this: shit's going down. (And somebody has to die for making Penguin sad. You can mock him and piss him off and beat him up, BUT YOU DO NOT MAKE HIM SAD. Bitches.)

Christineoftheopera- ** _That takes too long._**

JokersLittleGirl13- _NO. NO CLOWN. **He attacked us with a chair once.** He's a giggling maniac! _

* * *

Scarecrow stretches, his arms reaching behind his head and falling towards the ground. The gurney wiggles a little at the movement and one needle scrapes gently against the cement.

Ahh, he does like the medical building. Especially now, with the lights flickering (Joker's goons have been fucking with the generators) and the faint screams of the Blackgate prisoners echoing on the floor below.

He doesn't have to do anything for a little while yet, and he's enjoying a little rest-the medication they like to stick Jonny on always leaves him a little out of it. It's mostly out of his system-orderlies have been bribed-but still.

There's the sound of soft, hurried footsteps in the hall and he rolls off the gurney and crouches in the shadows. It's not Batman-Batman doesn't make noise-but it could be a guard and he doesn't really _want_ to pick a fight with the guards right now. They'll still have bullets and frightened people don't mix well with bullets.

The footsteps are hesitant, their owner frightened to come through the curtains. He smirks to himself and thinks that if they're frightened now, they won't survive the night.

The plastic flutters and finally he sees who it is-Doctor Thomas Fell, whose name has always amused him.

He doesn't like Fell, really. He's presumptive and ill-mannered and a _Freudian_.

And right now, tragically, by himself.

And oh, wouldn't you know it, he hasn't exactly tested this glove out as often as he would like. It would be a shame if he went to use it and it broke.

Years of subduing lab rats has given him practice in quick, precise movements and Fell scarcely has time to scream before Scarecrow strikes, wrapping his long limbs around his squirming quarry and sliding a needle into that soft spot under the chin. Fell flails and Scarecrow is quick to jump away, narrowly avoiding crashing into a gurney when he does so.

He's always preferred injections. The gas is quicker, he'll admit, but the liquid is _stronger_. The hallucinations are more vivid and the duration is much longer.

And trypanophobia* is so _delightfully_ common.

He clambers onto the gurney, prepared to leap away, and watches Fell stumble blindly towards the other doorway.

 _ **"I do not like thee, Doctor Fell."**_ he hisses, using one leg to propel the gurney along the cement. _**"The reason why, I cannot tell."**_

Fell trips over his own feet and hits the ground with a cry. He struggles to stand, clawing blindly at the ground, before gasping and curling into a little ball. Scarecrow moves closer.

 _ **"But this I know, and know full well..."**_

The gasping is becoming strained and Scarecrow pauses. He knows those little hic-hic-hics.

Asthma attack.

Damn. No wonder the reaction is less-than-stellar.

 _Alas._

 _ **Now I have to find another one!**_

 _Shame._

He slips off the gurney and kneels down, gently turning the man over. He twitches, limbs moving like a dying cockroach's.

 ** _"I do not like thee, Doctor Fell."_**

The hics stop. The twitching ceases and Fell, with a finally shudder, goes still on the cold cement.

Around this time, Scarecrow spots a bone saw on the other side of the room.

 _No. No. No playing with corpses._

 _ **Five minutes.**_

 _No!_

He ignores Jonny-kid has no sense of fun-and settles down criss-cross-applesauce on the floor, saw in hand.

It takes fifteen minutes, actually, but eventually the head is removed and he's crammed it into a jar he found under the sink. He thinks it was a pickle jar, which just adds to the creepiness.

 _I like pickles._

 _ **You're a weirdo.**_

 _You just put a head in a jar.**_

 _ **Bats is gonna go nuts! He'll spend all night going, 'WHAT'S THAT' and 'WHY' and 'GOTTA FIND OUT...FOR JUSTICE'.**_

 _He's not even going to notice._

 _ **He notices everything.**_

The loudspeaker crackles and that damn clown pipes up.

"Incoming patients for emergency surgery!"

 _Time to go._

He hauls Fell out and dumps him in a pile of guards before getting on his way.

Time to go to work.

THE END

*Fear of needles.

**There really is a head in a jar in _Asylum_. It doesn't DO anything, it's just...there.


	16. Jack Be Nimble

AN: Continuation of the last two. One more, I think, of this arc-prepare yourselves for someone large, green, and bity. Tick-tock, tick-tock...

SwordStitcher- ** _You think she needs therapy now...hahahahahahaha! Just you wait._**

Christineoftheopera- ** _There was a naked one slumped over the smaller generator..._** _I don't remember that. **I shielded your delicate eyes.**_

Katherine- _I told you so. **Shut up.** Don't like your own line turned back on you? **Humph.** It's Gotham. We should all be dead of internal bleeding._

* * *

Batman was becoming a real problem.

 _Twice_ now he'd arrived early and-and oh, this was the worst bit-overcome his

 _My._

 _ **OUR**._

toxin without any antidote, without outside helping, without anything.

And Scarecrow was really, really starting to hate him.

He was seated in the hall, nursing what felt like a cracked rib (one of Joker's Titan goons had thrown him when it charged for a guard) and trying to ignore Kitty, who was not pleased.

"Every damn time...hold still, let me see."

 _ **"It's nothing."**_

"Should I poke it?"

 _ **"You wouldn't."**_

"Thought so." She yawned and sat down next to him. "What's that noise?"

 _ **"What noise-"**_

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter...

Oh.

What the hell is that?

He leaned around the corner and raised an eyebrow.

One of the Blackgate prisoners was scurrying along the hall, looking behind him like a hunted animal.

"Poor thing." Kitty said from the floor. "Scared out of his wits."

 _ **"Not yet."**_

He ignored her sigh of exasperation and stood up, pressing himself against the wall to wait.

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter...

The prisoner stopped, breathing hard. Scarecrow waited a second to let him catch his breath and stepped out of the shadows, capsule in hand.

 _ **"Boo."**_

He flung the capsule to the floor. There was coughing, and sniffling, and a gasp of shock.

Then the bastard went and vaulted over the railing, fell a floor, and impaled himself on the chandelier.

That was...

That was rather anti-climatic. How disappointing.

"Good going."

 _Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jump over the candlestick._

 _ **FUCK YOU.**_

THE END


	17. The Animal Fair

AN: Not _technically_ a nursery rhyme, but...but...come on. Look at what came of it.

Christineoftheopera- ** _Humph._**

* * *

Scarecrow really did like Waylon. Well, most of the time-he hadn't quite forgiven him for eating one of his prized subjects (the idiot had run for it, Croc had been out...yeah).

Jonathan didn't much care for him. Scarecrow suspected he was afraid of him.

 _Cautious._

 _ **Scared.**_

 _Sensible._

 _ **Scared.**_

 _HE IS HUGE AND EATS PEOPLE._

 _ **...True.**_

Like him or not, they did have to pass by his cell. It was unavoidable, unfortunately. Jonathan was not pleased.

 _There's a way around._

 _ **This is faster.**_

Besides, he wasn't getting out. He was nice and drugged from earlier.

 _Then why is your hand shaking?_

 _ **It is not shaking**_ _._

Just to prove that he was not nervous (and to bug Jonny just a little), he started singing under his breath.

 _ **"I went to the animal fair...the birds and the beasts were there...the big baboon-"***_

BOOM-RATTLE!

 **"CROW."**

 _TIME TO GO._

 ** _"Croc."_**

 **"When I get outta here, little man..."** The monster snapped his jaws and Scarecrow took a step back. Safety first and all.

 _ **"You're not getting out. Sorry, Croc."**_

 _Shut up shut up just walk away._

 **"We'll see."**

 _ **"Glad we got to talk. We should do this again."**_

He did his best to ignore the snarling behind him on the way out.

It wasn't easy.

THE END

*And that's why _Asylum_ ended the way it did. Bummer.


	18. Rock-A-Bye Baby

AN: There are at least two, and maybe three, henchmen named 'Razor' in _Asylum_. Either that is a very common name in Gotham, or one guy has SHIT luck. I'm going with the latter. Razor quit Joker's gang and joined Scarecrow's. He won't kill you over a pimple.

Heh. The bad luck continues...

Christineoftheopera- _You've no idea._ _That thing tried to eat me! I wonder why... That was Scarecrow's fault, not mine. Still._

* * *

Acrophobes* are everywhere. And they're so easy to trigger-the really bad cases can be trapped in an elevator with glass sides and go to pieces without any help from him.

Like this one.

Poor bastard's name is Razor, which Jonny thinks is ridiculous and doubts is on his birth certificate. Scarecrow's not so sure-this is Gotham, after all. Look at Nygma. Or that girl he killed way back when, Kristen Kringle. **(Now _that_ was just cruel.)

Scarecrow disliked him from the beginning-he's clumsy and prone to drawing unwanted attention to himself and others. But he's a decent enough fighter when it matters and Scarecrow was willing to keep him for a little while.

Until he made a smart comment, anyway.

And so he led him onto the window-washing lift (well, okay, forced the others to knock him out and throw him on), jammed it between floors, and clambered to sit on top of it.

He's been out for half an hour and Scarecrow is beginning to worry that he's in a coma or something, but then he twitches and lifts his hand to his head.

"Wha-?"

 _ **"Good morning, sunshine!"**_

"Christ...boss?"

Scarecrow rocks a bit, making the lift sway.

 _ **"Do you know where you are?"**_

"Ugh...I'm..." He moves his head and gasps, white as a sheet. "God, get me down!"

Scarecrow moves again, a little more violently this time. Razor moans and hides his head in his knees.

"Please..."

 _ **"Rock-a-bye baby, on the tree top..."**_ He wiggles the cable. _**"When the wind blows, the cradle will rock."**_

"C'mon, boss, please!"

Scarecrow laughs and starts fiddling with the mechanism that connects the cable to the car. Razor begins to wail in earnest.

 _ **"When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall..."**_

Ah! Almost got it. A good WHACK should finish the job.

He climbs into an open window and picks up a broom. Outside, Razor's shrieks and pleas for mercy are starting to dwindle. He leans out, broom gripped firmly in his hands.

 _ **"And down will fall baby, cradle and all!"**_

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

There's a groan, and a metallic scraping, and the car wobbles, tilts...

And plummets downwards. Scarecrow smirks and closes the window.

He just misses seeing the Batman swing towards the falling car.

THE END

*Fear of heights.

**He miiiight...look at all the OTHER people those bastards have killed. (Season four episode two...I'm still so mad. Y'all don't even know my rage.)


	19. The Bird-Scarer

AN: This isn't a very well-known one, but...c'mon.

Christineoftheopera- _Oh, they most certainly are._

* * *

The cross is itchy, his arms are tired, and not for the first time he's thanking his lucky stars that it's not raining tonight.

Where are those little brats? How long does it take to come through a haunted house and into the haunted...what the hell is this supposed to be, anyway? Garden? Churchyard?

Haunted Outdoors. That's what it is. Whoop-dee-doo.

He slumps forward a little bit, the cross snagging his clothing. God, this is taking forever...

He hears frightened giggling and straightens up, ready. About damn time, what were they doing in there, taking pictures of the props? Christ.

The door creaks open and a group of college kids stumbles into the Haunted Outdoors. He cocks his head and sing-songs, _**"Away, birds, away! Take a little and leave a little, and do not come again!"**_

They jumped when he spoke, but now they're laughing and coming over to take candy from the bowl at his feet. Closer...closer...

"Great costume, man!"

He says nothing, simply goes still on the cross and watches as they cluster around the bowl. They're just standing up when he speaks again.

 _ **"For if you do, I will shoot you through, and there will be an end of you."**_

This time their laughter is nervous, and they're quick to back off. He climbs off the cross-ahh, much better-and stretches, feeling his joints pop.

 _ **"Greetings, children."**_

"Uh..."

He raises his arm and relishes the look of realization.

"Shit-"

 _ **"Boo."**_

The white gas hits them and sets them coughing and sputtering. Once that fades, the leader takes one look, turns, and sprints back into the house. The rest follow suit.

He comes after them, tracking them by the sound of screams.

Oh, he really does love Halloween.

THE END


	20. Fire

AN: In the video game adaptation of _Batman Begins_ , he is going to leave a couple of drugged, probably hallucinating patients in a building to 'burn with the rest of the evidence'. (Seriously, that's what he says: 'sorry, my darlings...I'm afraid you have to stay here and burn with the rest of the evidence...it'll only hurt so long as you're alive.') THEY ARE CHAINED TO THE FLOOR. He ends up setting them on the player, but...damn. Gold star for evidence disposal, I guess.

Christineoftheopera- ** _I scream, you scream, we all scream! But there's no ice cream. :(_**

JokersLittleGirl13- _This is Jonathan. **This is Scarecrow. Jonny-boy's all prim and proper.** Scarecrow has no manners. **Hey!** It's true._

* * *

Batman coughs, the black smoke creeping into his mouth and nose. Damn Crane, damn his penchant for setting things on fire...you'd think Scarecrows wouldn't play with matches.

The ceiling groans and he dives aside just as a beam falls and lands where he was just a second ago. This place is falling apart-Crane's probably long gone. He needs to get out.

 _ **"FIRE! FIRE! Says the town crier."**_

Batman turns in time to dodge the swing of the scythe. Scarecrow laughs and advances on him, scythe held high.

 _ **"Where? Where? Says Goody Blaire."**_

Another beam falls and they both jump back. Scarecrow stills for a second before coming forward again.

SLICE! SLICE!

 _ **"Down the town, says Goody Brown."**_

CRACK!

This time the beam nearly hits him and he's quick to back off. Batman readies himself. He can take the scythe when Scarecrow swings it again, if he's quick...

 _ **"I'll go see't! Says Goody Fleet."**_

He's not going to swing it. He's going to make a run for it.

He does-but not before tossing a capsule to the ground. Batman dives after him, coughing, but it's too late. Already his vision is becoming foggy and he's having trouble remembering which way is up.

Scarecrow's voice reaches him from somewhere far, far away.

 _ **"So will I, says Goody Fry."**_

SWING-SLICE!

For once he can thank the smoke-Scarecrow misses, but only barely. Where is he, he must still be here...there! By that window.

He struggles up and begins to run, feeling as though he's running through water.

He lunges-

-and dives through the glass.

As he falls, he can hear Scarecrow laughing at him.

THE END


	21. Bat, Bat

AN: Batman's a brat. Then again, more often than not their date nights end in screams and murder, so we can't really blame him.

Christineoftheopera- _ **Love me, Jonny. Look at them and love me.** You're just as terrible. **HEY!**_

* * *

Jonathan yawns and leans back against the tree trunk, watching the wind blow the swings back and forth. There's something about empty playgrounds that's just so...unnatural.

 _FWISH!_

A handful of dried leaves rains down on his head and he raises an eyebrow.

"Hi, Kitty."

"C'mon." She grabs his hands and tugs him up. "Push me."

"What."

"On the swings, you goose."

"How old are you again?"

She sticks her tongue out at him and drags him towards the swings. He sighs and wonders if she actually remembers that she is A) an adult and B) a homicidal maniac. (What? Normal people don't cut out uteruses with a steak knife.)

 _ **That was actually kinda hot.**_

 _It made a mess._

 _ **Yeah...but it was still kinda hot.**_

He can neither confirm nor deny that statement.

Brr. It's cold out here. Winter is coming and with it, snow.

He used to hate snow. He still doesn't like it, but his first winter here was spent wrapped in every blanket they had and vowing to never, ever, ever stay in Gotham for the winter again.

 _ **Eh. We learned new things.**_

"Mum expects us back for Christmas this year."

Christmas with the Richardsons means apple pie and hot chocolate. It's almost worth being roped into putting up lights.

And, quite frankly, going is much, much better than getting a phone call in Arkham and being lectured about 'the importance of family' and 'couldn't you have waited until after New Year's to rob that bank'.

Heh. He really should introduce Mrs. Richardson to Batman someday.*

The sun's almost down and he thinks they should probably go in, but they have henchmen right now and those idiots are driving him crazy. He'd kill them, but they're a decent lot as far as following directions goes and besides, he needs them for Halloween.

 _ **If we stay out long enough, we can use the 'shared body heat' as an excuse to 'warm up'.**_

 _Do you ever think about anything else?_

 _ **Eh, that's your job.**_

Scarecrow really has mastered the art of giving him a headache in two minutes flat.

 **Crunch, crunch.**

He spins around and Kitty leaps off the swing with a yelp of surprise.

Batman is standing behind them, looking anything but amused.

Oh.

Oh, crap.

He forces a smile and takes several large steps back.

"Fancy seeing you here."

 **"What are you doing."**

"Fresh air?"

Batman's eyes narrow.

And a handful of leaves flutters into his face and drifts harmlessly towards the ground.

"Run!"

Then she's grabbing his arm and sprinting off somewhere. Where the hell is she taking them-why are they climbing? Why are they on the structure?

"Kitty-"

"Shh."

 **Crunch, crunch.**

Where is...there he is, looking very, very upset.

"Now what."

"Ah..." She hasn't gotten that far, it's obvious. "We...we lure him into the slide. He'll get stuck and we'll make a break for it."

"No."

"Do you have a better plan?"

Ideally, he would have four good plans and two less-than-stellar backup plans, and he did-just not for 'Batman at the playground' scenarios.

"I thought not." She spots an abandoned baseball bat and grabs it. "Where'd he go?"

Good question.

 **CLANK!**

A grappling hook shoots up the slide and catches the metal floor at their feet.

"He fits in slides?!"

Scarecrow has an idea, and before Jonathan can protest he's taken control and liberated Kitty of the bat.

He clambers up on top of the slide and takes hold of the fireman's pole to keep from falling off as the Dark Knight comes up. Three...two...one...

Pointy ears enter his vision and he brings the bat down.

 **CRACK!**

 _ **"Bat, Bat, come under my hat, and I'll give you a slice of bacon!"**_

But not really, because what freak shares their bacon?

Batman is refusing to let go of his rope despite the fact that his nose is bleeding and Scarecrow brings the bat down again.

 _ **"And when I bake, I'll give you a cake, if I am...not...mistaken!"**_

 **THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!**

The bat breaks, and Batman is still feebly trying to claw his way up. Doesn't matter-Kitty's gotten hold of a support pole, hauled herself up, and swung herself feet-first at the slide.

The black-gloved hand finally weakens and Batman inches back a little bit. But not for long.

"Run!"

They take off, sprinting across the field towards the nearby shopping mall. Scarecrow, now that the excitement is over, abandons Jonathan to the joys of 'running' and 'probably getting mowed down by a giant ninja'.

This is going to be a long night.

THE END

*Maybe one day I'll do a crackfic and have them meet.


	22. Ring Around the Rosies

AN: This is like, the classic creepy nursery rhyme. What did you expect me to do?

SwordStitcher- _I think she might kill Batman._ _That sounds hilarious. Jonathan! What? Can't you just see it? She's not much bigger than you, it'd be priceless. She could get hurt! Somehow I doubt that._

Christineoftheopera- _Everyone knows that one. Except, perhaps, the clown, though who knows what goes on in his head._

* * *

John Jones* comes to with a splitting headache and numb wrists. He's lying on his back, apparently, on a cold stone floor. He remembers a pretty woman chatting him up at the bar, and then...nothing.

"Oww..."

He doesn't know that woman's voice, so why is she so close to him?

There's a clanking noise and something tugs at his left wrist. He forces his eyes open and sees...absolutely nothing. It's pitch-black in here.

Wherever _here_ is, anyway.

"Who are you?"

The woman squeaks and there's the tugging again before she stops suddenly.

"Sorry...Jane. Jane Smith."

"Where are we?"

"I don't know."

He lifts his other hand and it tugs on dead weight. Now that he's a little more awake, he can feel cold metal around his wrists. Handcuffs.

What the hell?

"Is someone else here?"

There's a groan to his right and a man speaks.

"Christ."

The three sit up slowly. There's no one else-his and Jane's other hands are cuffed to a Will Collins, who has no more idea about where they are than they do.

Time passes slowly in the dark, but eventually John feels like he could stand up.

"Do we think we can stand?"

"Maybe."

"Yeah."

They wobble up and Will nearly falls, dragging them all into a head-bonking heap.

It hurts, but the pain is chased away by fear-high, mocking laughter bursts out of the darkness. John will admit to a less-than-manly squeal of surprise.

Slow clapping reaches his ears and a soft light turns on. A man's shadow stretches across the room like a reaching hand.

"Not your most graceful attempt, but I suppose it's not entirely your fault."

"You!" Jane sounds horrified. "You drugged my drink!"

"Yes, I did."

"You bastard!"

The man laughs and comes a little closer. John gasps and is drawn back when the other two hasten backwards.

Standing before them is the Scarecrow.

"Oh, god-"

"God won't help you." He moves closer and John _swears_ he hears bones rubbing together. "Tell you what." He leans in like a child with a secret. "Make it up the stairs and out the door, and I'll let you go, I _**promise**_."

There's a catch, he knows there is, but fuck it, he doesn't care.

"Come on."

It's a slow, stumbling pace-especially when the Scarecrow shuts the light off-but they eventually make it to the stairs and begin to climb.

Then Jane screams and jerks back, dragging them all down.

"Something touched me!"

"Nothing touched you, come on."

"Something touched me!" she insists. That horrible, mocking laughter comes again and they huddle together at the foot of the staircase.

 _ **"She could be telling the truth."**_

She isn't, she's been drugged, she said so.

"Come on, Jane." He and Will pull her up and try to tug her up the stairs, but she digs in her heels and refuses to budge.

"No!"

"Move, you dumb bitch!" Will yanks on her arm and they all wobble forward. The Scarecrow chuckles and John hears him moving, slipping through the shadows towards them.

"Come on, come on, come on!"

They band together and haul her up the stairs, ignoring her shrieks and flails. From somewhere

 _ **everywhere and nowhere**_

the Scarecrow's voice reaches his ears.

 _ **"Ring around the rosies, a pocket full of posies..."**_

Halfway up now, they must be!

"Almost there, it's okay, come on."

 _ **"Ashes, ashes..."**_

Hang on.

A light ahead of them clicks on and he's _there_ Jesus CHRIST he's there laughing at them.

 _ **"We all...fall...down."**_

"No, no, please-"

But he's already raising his arm and a cloud of white mist is drifting towards them.

And then they fall.

THE END

*Crane uses this as an alias in _Year One_. Once. This has been THE MORE YOU KNOW with Scary Scarecrows.


	23. Little Jack Horner

AN: Fun fact! About 80% of these were written the day of posting, because my flash drive freaked out and I spent time that could have been spent writing them trying to regain lost files. (College teaches you how to write a five-page essay the day it's due, though, so...)

Christineoftheopera- _And why not?_

* * *

Longtime (two months!) Arkham guard Jack Draiman sat in the security booth, wondering how long he had to wait before sneaking off to the break room to grab his snack.

It was quiet tonight, for once-Joker was in solitary, Dent was out, Nygma was drugged...ahh, it was a good night.

Or it would be, if Crane didn't know where the damn camera was. He'd been watching it for the past hour. Not _doing_ anything, just lying in bed staring at it.

Brr.

Whatever. He was probably just being his normal creepy self, trying to get a rise out of him.

The clock in the lobby struck midnight. Snack time. Everyone was quiet, he'd be back in five minutes.

He crept out, ran down the hall to the break room, and vowed that if any sorry bastard had stolen his snack, he would find them and ensure that they failed the next drug test.

Ah! The little plastic Tupperware with his slice of pie, specially made by Mom. She'd even written a note in Sharpie.

Clutching the Holy Grail of Yum, he ran back to the room, locked the door, and settled back in front of the cameras. Just a quick check...Nygma sleeping, Tetch sleeping, Crane...Crane still being a creeper. Whatever.

He took the lid off and propped it up to read the note while he ate.

 _Little Jack Horner_

 _Sat in the corner_

 _Eating a Christmas Pie._

Weird. Usually she just left him little 'love you! be safe!' notes on the lids.

Oh, well. The pie was delicious, best she'd ever made.

A sudden movement on the cameras caught his attention and he looked up. Crane was holding up a piece of paper-where the hell had he gotten that?-with something on it. (Where the _hell_ had he gotten a writing utensil? Shit!)

 _He put in his thumb_

 _And pulled out a plum_

 _And said 'what a good boy am I!'_

Shit.

Shit, shit.

The pie. He'd done something to the pie.

He flung the crust away from him and grabbed for his water bottle to rinse his mouth out. The water bottle tried to bite him.

He shrieked and yanked his hand away and ran for the door, fumbling with the knob as the bottle bounced towards him. Gotta get out, gotta get away...

Then the computer cords rose up and wrapped themselves around his neck.

THE END


	24. Rain, Rain

AN: Based on the...first few pages, actually...of _Year One_. How did he get there? What did he do? Fuck if I know, and neither do you.

No more rhymes for me.

SwordStitcher- _The man had no manners, and nobody brings steamed carrots as a midnight snack._

Christineoftheopera- _It was chocolate, actually._

* * *

Scarecrow sprinted through the warehouse, knowing but not caring too much that the Batman was behind him. Oh, there was no noise, no 'stop!', but he knew all the same.

 _Left, right, double back..._

 _ **No backseat running!**_

The _splik-splik_ of the rain was getting annoying-just because a place was abandoned didn't mean it had to have broken windows. Tear it down, then! God.

 _Health hazard...you know the rats in here have the plague._

 _ **I'll come back later to get one for you to study**_ _._

 _No, thanks-LEFT!_

Hadn't he _just_ said...oh. Door.

He grabbed for the knob, hoping it wasn't locked for some reason, and felt it turn just as Batman crashed through the roof.

He dashed inside, slammed it, and sprinted for the fire escape. Leave it to Batman to ruin his fun...he'd so been enjoying that last test subject, with his melodious screams...and this place had such _nice_ acoustics, too!

 ** _Rain, rain, go away, come again another day._**

No matter. Jonny, ever the paranoid one,

 _It's not paranoia if they're really after you._

had expected something like this would happen, and planned accordingly.

He exited the warehouse and slipped into an alley. Not the safest getaway plan, but he would blend in better here.

Besides, he could always entertain himself by imagining Batman's face when he glided into what he thought was Scarecrow...and found to be a straw dummy with a pumpkin's head.

It was a shame they hadn't rigged a camera in there.

THE END


	25. What Are Little Girls Made Of?

AN: If memory serves, he's done something like this before. Memory does not serve as to _when_. _Long Halloween_? _Dark Victory_? One of those, I think.

Christineoftheopera- _He certainly was._

* * *

 _ **What are little girls made of? What are little girls made of?**_

Scarecrow leaned back in his chair, looking at Raggedy Ann.

Raggedy Ann was fairly creepy, really, with that painted mouth and those wide, unnatural eyes. And the way it always smiled, even when being cut open.

Fucking dolls.

 _Pediophobia?_

 _ **NO. I just think it's creepy.**_

 _Of course you do._

 _ **Shut up, Jonny**_ _._

He plopped it down on the table , picked up a scalpel, shoved the dress up, and sliced into the white fabric below the embroidered red heart. Stuffing bubbled up and he plucked it out with long fingers and set it aside.

He picked up a small, pressure-activated capsule and eased it into the doll's body, in just the right place for little arms to squeeze it. He crammed the stuffing back in-gently, gently, no need to have a bulge somewhere-and stitched it back up, nice and neat.

There. The last one. Finally.

He yawned, patted the doll on the head, and went upstairs to go to bed.

 _ **Sugar and spice and everything nice, that's what little girls are made of.**_

THE END


	26. Baby Dolly

AN: A continuation of yesterday's little plot.

Christineoftheopera- ** _Does this answer your question?_**

Jay Legion- _Only a few more to go now._

* * *

"Get one from the back, it'll be cleaner."

Abby Granger dug chubby little hands into the pile of rag dolls and came up with a crisp, clean doll from the bottom of the pile.

"Let me check...good. You don't want one with a wonky seam."

"Can I carry her?"

"No, put her in the cart so I don't forget to pay for her."

"I'd remind you."

"Abby..."

"Okay, okay! Sorry."

She situated Raggedy Ann by Mom's purse so she could see the store. And so Mom wouldn't forget to pay for her.

Abby was quick to grab Raggedy from the cashier for the walk home. It was a crisp fall day, with orange and red leaves blowing along the sidewalk and the smell of coffee and pumpkin pie in the air.

Abby loved fall. Trick-or-treating, new clothes, hot chocolate...

Mostly the trick-or-treating. She was going to be a fairy queen for Halloween this year.

"Abby, watch where you're-!"

She ran smack into a man's knees and fell backwards, Raggedy falling to the sidewalk.

"Abby, you need to watch where you're going! What do you say?"

"I'm sorry."

The man picked her up and set Raggedy in her arms.

"There we are, child." He patted her on the head. "No harm done."

* * *

Scarecrow loved fall. It was dark early, which meant he could hide in large trees outside windows without being noticed.

He was doing just that, watching his little subject set up a tea party with her new doll. Did all little girls have to have tea parties? Ugh.

She plopped the rag doll down at the table across from a tiger and a bat and stood up.

"I'm going to get the sandwiches. Play nicely."

She left and he eased his way along the branch and tried the window. It stuck and for a moment he thought it wouldn't open, but then it did. He was just pushing it when he spotted the white thing on the sill-alarm.

Hm. This could be a problem.

Too late-he could hear her coming back, humming what might have been 'Here We Go Round the Mulberry Bush'. He closed the window again and scurried back into the branches, feeling very annoyed. How dare the mother take precautions? God!

He watched the tea party for a few minutes before climbing down and beginning his search for another way in.

He was about to just risk the window alarm-if he was quick he could turn it off-when the back door opened and the mother came out with a trash bag. Quick as could be, he slipped in through the half-open door and ducked into the coat closet.

Ugh. Mothballs. And there was a wool thing in here-he could feel it scratching at the backs of his hands.

The door closed and he heard footsteps coming through the hall and the woman calling, "Abby! Time to brush your teeth!"

"But Mom-"

"No buts! Get to it!"

Noisy child-footsteps ran across the floor upstairs and he waited another minute before cracking the closet door open. No sign of life. Good.

He stepped out and crept upstairs. The child was humming again, but she wasn't in her room. He ducked in and nestled himself in the closet, peering through a crack in the door. The stuffed bat stared back at him with glittery orange eyes and he scowled behind the mask.

Soon enough, the child came back in, dumped the tea party stuff in a toy box, and clambered into bed with the rag doll. Ah, children...so predictable. New toys always got bedtime privileges.

After a boring bedtime ritual involving tickling and a song, a nightlight was turned on, the main light was turned off, and the mother left the room and shut the door. _Finally._

He could, he supposed, wait for her to fall asleep and roll on it, but after all the trouble he'd gone through to get in here, he wanted to have a little fun.

Besides, this closet was cramped and filled with pink things.

He moved a bit and accidentally knocked a few hangers together. The girl did not move, but he heard her breath hitch. Hopefully she wasn't a silent reactor...

He reached out and tapped gently on the wall. _That_ got her to dive under the blankets and he could hear her muttering, "No such things as monsters, no such things as monsters..."

He stilled for a few minutes more before sliding his fingers through the crack in the door and drumming them against the wood.

The little girl began to cough.

He grinned and started inching the door open. The lump in the blankets was quivering a little and he could see the rag doll's arm sticking out a bit.

 _ **"Hush, baby, my dolly, I pray you don't cry, and I'll give you some bread, and some milk by-and-by."**_

He was greeted with silence, but that was normal. He poked his head out and padded over to the bed.

 _ **"Or perhaps you like custard, or maybe a tart."**_

"Mom!" He was fairly sure that was meant to be a scream, but it was more of a squeak. Tsk, tsk, no lungs on this one at all.

 _ **"Then to either you're welcome, with all of my heart."**_

A tousled head poked itself out from under the blankets and he waggled his fingers in her face.

Then she screamed, screamed and thrashed and only succeeded in tangling herself in the blankets. The rag doll fell to the floor.

He heard footsteps sprinting towards the room and hastened to duck out the window, the alarm's shrieks mingling with those of the child.

He wondered if this would make the ten o' clock news.

THE END


	27. Ding Dong Bell

AN: Sorry, little Cat. Perhaps you should tread cautiously from now on? Slight editing to the rhyme (one word) because I CAN. Selina has had to be rescued before-in 'Almost Got 'Im' (BTAS), Joker and Harley threatened to turn her into cat food. Literally. To be fair, she had just saved Batman's ass.

Christineoftheopera- ** _Damn right._**

Jay Legion- _You will. Scary won't._

* * *

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

Selina woke with a splitting headache, a sore throat, and a foggy mind.

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

She raised her head-oh, owww-and looked at her surroundings. Well, what little she could see of them-it was dark wherever she was, and cold, and unfamiliar.

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

She put her hand out and felt cold, damp stones. What had happened? She'd been in the museum...and Crane had been there... _Crane_.

Dammit. The last time they'd met, she'd kicked him off a building. It wasn't a high building-two stories-but he'd ended up in Arkham because of it.

 _ **"Ding dong, bell!"**_

"Crane." His voice was somewhere above her. Where the hell was she? "What did you do."

 _ **"Pussy's in the well!"**_

Great.

She had met Scarecrow exactly two times too many already. Crane could be reasoned with. Scarecrow not so much.

 _ **"Who put her in?"**_

And of course the bastard had taken her goggles, her whip...everything. He'd even taken her shoes. Must've disliked being stabbed with them the last time they met.

Humph.

"Scarecrow! When I get up there-"

 _ **"Little Jonny Crane!"**_

She struggled to her feet and began picking her way across the space. Her toes touched something hairy. There was a squeak and something large-a rat?-scurried away from her.

 _ **"Who pulled her out?"**_

Selina reached the other side of the space and felt the wall. Bricks, but they were smoothed out by water. She wouldn't be climbing out in a hurry.

 _ **"Little Tommy Stout."**_

There was a rusty noise above her and before she could move, water fell onto her head. She coughed and sputtered and called him an asshole, but that only made him laugh.

 _ **"What a naughty boy was that, to dry and drown poor pussy-cat-umph!"**_

Well. That didn't sound good. For Scarecrow, anyway.

All was silent, and then a rope fell down in front of her. She grinned, grabbed it, and felt it rise.

"You were a little late."

"Fashionably." She went to pull away and he grabbed her wrist. "The diamond."

"One would think that's all you came here for." She frowned but pulled the diamond from her bra and dropped it into his waiting palm. "Thank you."

"Hm."

She leaned up and he leaned backwards, but she grabbed his chin and pressed red lips to his.

Then, of course, she swiped the diamond back and ran for it.

It was simply too nice to return.

THE END


	28. Little Robin Redbreast

AN: Apologies, little bird, but when your mentor dresses you in red and yellow, well...one would almost think he wants this to happen to you. (Robin exists in my universe when I can be mean to him. Sorry, kid. Other writers can be nice to you.)

SwordStitcher- _I'm not that fragile! You kind of are. I am not._

Jay Legion- _We ended up in Arkham. Again._

* * *

Robin came to upside-down, trussed up like a fly in a spider's web. Damn...

They'd been chasing after Scarecrow, and had gotten separated. Then that crazy girlfriend of his had popped up with a lead pipe, there was blinding pain and a crunch, and he'd been down for the count.

Something heavy and cold poked his head and set him swinging. Ugh...

"I think he's awake."

"Finally."

The cold heavy thing poked him again and he struggled to open his eyes.

He was in a warehouse. That was no surprise. He was hanging about twenty feet from the floor, which was also no surprise.

He squirmed around and found his captors a few feet away, on a walkway. Richardson still had the pipe, and even now she leaned over the railing to jab him with it.

"Rise and shine!"

Oww...why so cheerful?

"If he pukes and chokes and dies, I will blame you."

"Bats'll just get another one."

"True."

He glared at them-or tried to, anyway, but his headache ensured it came out more as a pout.

The Scarecrow leaned on the railing, head cocked to the side.

"What-ever shall I do with you, little bird?"

"Shut up, Scarecrow."

Scarecrow grabbed the pipe and administered a far more vigorous poke to his forehead. Oh god...gonna be sick, gonna be sick...

No. He was not about to give the bastard the satisfaction.

"You'll blame me, you said?" She took the pipe back. "Give me that."

Scarecrow scoffed and reached down to pick up what looked like a canister of Raid.

"Know what this is, little bird?"

Yeah. He had an idea, thanks.

He kept his mouth shut and concentrated and trying to reach his knife. He could feel it pressing against his thigh, it was just a matter of reaching it.

But whoever had tied these knots was very...enthusiastic.

"Can't have you getting loose." Scarecrow chided. "This should keep you still."

He jerked around just as Scarecrow leaned over and pressed the button on the canister. For a minute he thought he'd dodged it, but then an acidic taste entered his mouth and he began to cough.

"Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a rail..."

Below, the shadows twisted and squirmed and began to grow, pulling themselves from the ground and up the walls.

"Niddle-noble went his head, widdle-waggle went his tail."

Not real, not real...

He twisted and felt the ropes at his right hand begin to give a little. One more minute, one more minute...

"Little Robin Redbreast came to visit me..."

One of the shadows-one with clawed hands and a demonic face-hauled itself over the railing.

"Scarecrow!"

A skinny shadow climbed onto the railing and laughter reached his ears.

"You can't catch us both, Bats. Which will it be?"

SLICE!

And he dropped, straight down into the gaping maw below. Above him, he could Scarecrow laughing.

"This is what he whistled: 'thank you for my tea!'"

Then he heard nothing more.

THE END


	29. Pop Goes the Weasel

Jay Legion- _Come to think on it, we didn't see the little bird for some time after. It was a welcome respite._

Christineoftheopera- _It would shock me more if he didn't have one._

Katherine- _As we found out. Unfortunately._

* * *

Lizzie Jackson had been born and raised on the streets of Gotham. She had witnessed the Penguin's ascent into power, the rise of the costumed freaks, and, recently, the arrival of the Batman.

Not that any of that matters now.

She dashes around a dumpster and crouches down, wheezing and trying to keep quiet. She'll never go into a dark warehouse again, honest, no matter how bad the weather is or what she hears...

 _ **"All around the cobbler's bench, the monkey chased the weasel..."**_

Lizzie gasps and stuffs her fist in her mouth to muffle the sound. That voice, dear god, that _voice_...

A long shadow stretches down the alley and she scampers between the dumpster and the wall.

 _ **"The monkey thought t'was all in fun..."**_

She swallows hard and watches the shadow creep closer. Eventually she sees the man behind it, his yellow eyes gleaming in the darkness.

He's now level with the dumpster, long needles tapping gently against the metal. It's now or never.

She gathers her legs beneath her, takes a few deep breaths, and darts out-

-only for him to catch her arm and yank her back.

 ** _"Pop goes the weasel!"_**

THE END


	30. I See the Moon

AN: Okay, this is a creepy-ass rhyme, especially when paired with the 'man in the moon' stories. Okay, creepy man-in-the-moon, think I'll keep my curtains shut.

Jay Legion- ** _One more after this...then she won't have much of anything._**

Christineoftheopera- ** _It takes a special type of freak to do what we do._**

* * *

Timmy Hax lay in bed, looking at the moon through the crack in the drapes. Downstairs, his parents were fighting.

"Damn it, Martha!" Glass shattered. "You can't keep doing this shit!"

"Fuck off, John!"

Timmy sighed and looked back at the moon.

 _ **"I see the moon, and the moon sees me, and the moon sees the one that I can't see."**_

He sat up, fumbling for the lamp switch, and clicked it on.

There was no one there.

"Hello?"

His parents' shouting reached a crescendo and he wondered if he'd imagined the scratchy voice outside.

Timmy clicked off the light and snuggled back under the covers. The wind knocked a branch against his window and he rolled over to look at the door instead.

 _Scrape, scrape._

He shivered and pulled the blankets over his head.

 _Scrape, scrape._

 _Cre-eak!_

Cold wind blew his comic off his nightstand and he sat up to close the window.

Crouched on the sill was the boogeyman, thin and pale, with gleaming yellow eyes and needle-fingers.

Timmy opened his mouth to scream and the thing sprang, needle-less hand clapping over his mouth.

 _ **"Shh, shh. Not yet."**_

He tried to bite the hand and it hissed and brought the needles up to his chin.

 _ **"You little brat!"**_

He thrashed and tried to kick out, but his legs were tangled in the blankets and he only succeeded in making the monster chuckle.

 _ **"God bless the moon, and God bless me..."**_

A needle pierced the soft skin and slid inwards. He blinked and the thing withdrew, retreating to the window.

 _ **"And God bless the one that I can't see."**_

Timmy began to scream.

THE END


	31. Hush, Little Baby

AN: _**Happy Halloween, little readers!**_

Jay Legion- ** _MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!_**

Christineoftheopera- ** _We prefer it that way. Makes it more personal._**

Katherine- ** _Target the weak. And those who don't have Tasers by their bed._**

* * *

Gotham...slept...soundly...that...night. The end.

 ** _That was a horrible ending!_**

I can't let you win all the time! Come on, you know I love you.

 _ **You broke my nose and threw me in Arkham!**_

You picked a fight with Batman!

 _ **He ruined my plans!**_

Too bad. That's what happens when you try to gas an orphanage.

 _ **What's that? Is that me?**_

Uh-huh. Don't pick it up, it-

 _ **OW! It stabbed me!**_

I was trying to give it a needle glove.

 _ **Humph.**_

Get off my bed, you're shedding burlap everywhere.

 _ **Make me.**_

You know what...never mind. Fine. Shed. It's not worth it.

 _ **Heh.**_

It's stuffy in here. I'm opening a window.

...

Hey. Move over, you're in the way.

 _ **I know.**_

Then move! God, you're such a child. Come on, move.

 _ **Nah. No need to open the window.**_

O-kay, then...I'm just gonna go out there.

Please let go of my arm.

 _ **You broke my nose and threw me in Arkham. That hurts, Scary, it really does.**_

I'll let you kidnap Robin or something later!

 _ **Rewrite it.**_

No! It has to end that way, it worked the best.

 ** _Then here you stay._**

 ** _What's wrong with you? You're looking a little flushed. Are you sick?_**

I don't feel so well...

 _ **You ARE sick! Let's just put you to bed now...shh, shh, don't struggle.**_

Don' wanna go to bed...jus' need a little fresh air...

 _ **THERE we go, cozy-comfy! Oh, don't start crying, everything's going to be fine.**_

What's wrong with me?

 _ **Hush, little writer, don't you cry, Scarecrow's gonna sing you a lullaby...**_

Oh god oh god oh god

 _ **Shh, shh. Don't struggle, you'll hurt yourself...here we go, a nice straitjacket. Just...hold...still...there! Nice and safe.**_

SOMEBODY PLEASE-

 _ **No one's coming. No one's home.**_

Oh god somebody please...

 _ **That's better. Tell me what you see.**_

THE END

 _ **YOU'RE NEXT!**_


End file.
